


Escape

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Series: Escape [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Language, Mention of torture, canon-typical descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 15:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9188288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: Torture was a funny thing. It tore away at your sense of self, the very core of you. You held on, though. Held on until you could make your escape.





	

  


Pins and needles. All you could feel in your arms were pins and needles. Your arms hung above your head, cold hard metal cuffs digging into your skin. Long ago you gave up trying to wiggle out of them. It was wasted energy, and after not being fed for… _Fuck._ You lost track of day and night, all illusion of time ripped from you.

The dark room, for lack of a better word, was small and cramped. It was more like a closet, no windows anywhere. The heat inside was stifling, making the smells contained in there even more gut-wrenching. The walls were beige, or rather were beige. Years of neglect and bloodshed turned the walls a different color, nonetheless sickening as the pristine beige at the top. Not that that mattered much anymore.

They decided to play with sense deprivation, tying a blindfold over your eyes. At first, it was just to keep you even more in the dark as to what they were doing. You briefly laughed at the play on words. Over time, it became a cruel game of marco polo. You lose, you get cut. You win? You get beaten. Catch 22.

Biding your time. That was all you could do now. Wait. Conserve energy and wait for an opportunity to present itself. They’d done everything imaginable. Dry drowning, slicing and dicing, blowtorch, the whole nine yards. Pain was a constant, and this was your own personal hell. But you refused to break. You refused to bow to their sick games, their torture and darkness. So you decided to conduct a little torture yourself as they ripped at piece after piece of you. Physical torture was their game, psychological was yours.

You heard footsteps, loud and lumbering creak down what you assumed was a hallway. They never let you see outside of the room but despite the blindfold, you knew exactly where you were. Sounds didn’t lie. Woodpeckers and trickling water. Out in the woods, you figured. Out in the wilderness where no one would hear your desperate screams.

You steadied your thumping heartbeat, bracing as you sang.

> “If you like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain  
>  If you´re not into yoga, if you have half a brain  
>  If you like making love at midnight, in the dunes of the cape  
>  I’m the love that you’ve looked for, write to me, and escape”

Your voice wobbled, sounding dry and cracked with disuse. It was almost sickeningly airy to your ears, but you sang nonetheless. This was the ace up your sleeve. He didn’t like your little rebellious streak. He hated your show of strength, the song choice even more grating to him you could tell. The door opened and closed behind him- you could tell it was him just by the heft of his steps and the creak of his boots. He said nothing, just circled around your crumpled form on the floor. You continued to sing, waiting for him to do something. _Anything._

He finally came to a stop in front of you, kneeling up close. The flash of cool metal sliding across your collarbone startled you, the sharp rasp of an edge as dangerous as it is unseen. Your eyelashes fluttered against the blindfold, voice hitching as you pressed your luck.

His voice filled the space, echoing off of the close walls. “This is my knife. It is very sharp and very eager to hurt you.” He continued to trail it across your skin, rasping sickeningly.

You paused your singing, mouth faster than your brain. “I might be wrong, but I don’t think pulling a knife on someone is going to make them like you more.”

He grabbed your face in his hand, fingers digging harshly into your cheeks. Your lips pursed open a little in his grasp, busted lip aching at the harsh treatment. He snarled in your face, breath hot and heavy. “I don’t need you to like me, bitch. I need you to bleed, to suffer. To beg for mercy.”

You knew your luck had already been pushed. Either way, you were going to be hurt. There was no other way around it. If you can’t get out of the pain, you might as well get under his skin.

“You’re bad with people, okay? No use being offended by the fact.”

You could practically feel his anger radiating from him. It crackled and fizzed, red-hot and alive in the small space. Your breathing picked up as you waited for his retaliation. He didn’t disappoint.

He sliced you across your arm and down chest, bright and burning as it dug into your skin. The blade wasn’t sharp so the pain was worse, dragging painfully across your flesh. Sure, it hurt. It always did. But the louder you screamed, the more blood he would take. And you’d be damned if you’d give him any satisfaction in the sound of your pain.

Your breath was coming in harsh pants now, the effort of keeping quiet sending you into a shaking fit. He growled, “You’re nothing but some slut who hasn’t learned to keep her mouth shut. Today I’m going to finally teach you the true meaning of pain. Why don’t we see how many times it takes to dry drown you before your heart won’t start up again?”

No. No no no no- this- _NO._ The last time they did that fun little experiment, you were so close to begging to just have it all end. Not that they would have let you. They wanted to break you, not end you.

A noise from behind the door startled both he and you, his curses barely audible over his growl. “I’m not finished with you,” he said, stomping petulantly to the door and ripping it open. It thudded against the wall, hanging open as he ran off after the mysterious sounds.

You could feel the blood dripping down your chest, your head going a little dizzy from dehydration and blood loss. Everything just _hurt_. You just wanted your old life back. It was shitty, but it was better than the hell on earth you were currently living through.

Your head thumped back against the wall as you strained to listen to the noises beyond your four walls. Fighting. Flesh on flesh, grunting and falling. Fighting.

There was definitely broken stuff all over the place, judging by the intensity and length of all the sound. Things were thrown, smashed to pieces, before a scream pierced the air. It was sickening, wet and garbled at the end. Hurried footsteps approached, opening and closing doors as they went. Separate feet walked further away, wood groaning under their weight.

For all you knew, he’d dispatched of unwanted visitors so you kept to your mind game. Your retaliation. Might as well go down swingin’.

> “Yes, I like Pina Coladas, and getting caught in the rain  
>  I’m not much into health food, I am into champagne  
>  I’ve got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape  
>  At a bar called O'Malley’s, where we’ll plan our escape”

Leather boots creaked as they stealthily approached the open door. A soft ‘son of a bitch’ and this new man you’d never heard before was rushing up to you.

“Hey- hey, you still here?” he asked, stopping short as you instinctively pressed further to the wall. “Hey, I’m not here to hurt ya-” he pulled at the knot of your blindfold before heaving a sigh, pulling it up as best he could instead. You squinted against the light, unused to the level of brightness.

Your eyes started adjusting, showing his large frame hunched down in front of you. The more you adjusted, the more you realized how handsome he was. Even under a good layer of dirt and blood, you could see it. Stubble dusted over his sharp jaw and across his cheeks, a small crease between his brows as he looked you over. If you didn’t already know how much of a mess you were, his eyes surely confirmed it. You still held yourself against the wall, unsure as to what was going through his head. His eyes swept over what was left of your tank top, eyes surely drawn to the fresh gash running over your ruddy skin. You watched in trepidation as his jaw clenched and ticked right before his eyes met yours.

“I killed him,” he said, voice low and gravely as he looked you straight in the eye, his own green eyes flashing. “I killed whichever son of a bitch that did this to you, and I’m getting you out of here.”

You wanted to believe him. Years of hunting any and every form of evil imaginable had you hesitant though- ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ as your dad used to say. You were wary, to say the least.

“Christo,” you huffed, testing him. He didn’t flinch, rather his brows climbed to his hairline. So, _not_ a demon. Good to know.

His hands lifted to the shackles around your wrists, though you couldn’t help the shuddering flinch that stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Fuck,” he breathed, “they really- _fuck_. Okay, I’m going to get you out of these cuffs. Let me- _just-_ ”

Screwing up your courage because he was _actively trying to uncuff you_ , you nodded to the spot beside the door. “Key’s over there.” You’d been taunted with the sight of it for a good portion of your captivity, and you were finally going to be untethered.

He rose quickly, grabbing the key before stopping halfway back to you. Your heart clenched before you realized that his eyes were trained at the other side of the room. He pointed to the spot where you knew another person lay, mouth a thin line. “What about him?” he asked, resuming his way back to you and your shackles.

“I’m no doctor, but I think he’s dead,” you bluntly put it. You were blindfolded when you heard the gasping breaths, airy like he was sucking in air through a straw. “Stopped breathing a while back. Not sure how long ago, though.”

He caught your arms as they threatened to fall limp from their confines, lowering them to your lap. You slowly let yourself relax a bit, this man you’d only just met already such a comforting presence at your side. He sat on his haunches, pulling off his jacket and setting it over one of his knees. His hands at your shoulders startled you, your eyes fallen shut in the moments between. It had to be a degree of blood loss that had you missing chunks of time, his hands already smoothing his jacket over your shoulders. His head dipped to meet your hazy gaze, his mouth hanging open slightly.

 _Gonna catch flies like that_ , you thought absently, unable to find your voice to say as much at the moment. You registered his mouth moving, though his voice sound garbled through the mute humming in your ears. Everything was starting to feel blurred and in slow motion as he gave up on trying to speak to you, his arms going around you to pick you up off the disgusting floor.

Your head thunked against his chest, the heat of him the only thing that seemed to get through the growing haze. You were sure he was moving by the way his weight shifted from one side to the other, your head shifting with the movement. The heaviness in your limbs multiplied with each passing moment, your sight funneling into tunnel vision as your consciousness faded.


End file.
